


Go Live the Choice You Made

by cyrusbarrone



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Jekyll & Hyde headcanon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:44:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1807495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyrusbarrone/pseuds/cyrusbarrone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian Gray was always one to be intrigued by something new, and Ethan Chandler was definitely something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go Live the Choice You Made

**Author's Note:**

> Before you read, please take note that any changes shown in Ethan's description are deliberate. Just remember that, when you think I've fucked up!! ^.^ x
> 
> Title is from Ashestoangels' song 'Dorian' (ha see what i did there hahaha)

The taste of absinthe was bitter on his tongue, like a version of poison that people actually wanted to taste. It was more dulled this time though, different from how it tasted coming from the delicate crystalline glasses. There was something else behind the poison, and Dorian seeked more than he was getting, and he felt almost high from opium when he got more of that something else, and Ethan dug his fingers into the deft and smooth lines of his hips.

He felt breathless from a mere touch of the mouth, and for the first time in a while he ached with the feeling of new and youth. He felt awash with something entirely different than what he got when he fucked into a prostitute or licked blood from the split lip of young men.

His fingers dug into Ethan's hips as he was pushed to the chaise longue as though he were a mere rag doll, not delicate or expensive like the prostitutes from the common brothels acted. His lips pulled up and the white of his teeth is bared, his arms and legs splayed open across the dark velvet green of the furniture. He feels oddly insignificant- for the first time in a while- as he watched the other man. He had strong arms, pulsing lines of veins and muscle obvious under the thin layer of skin. His stance made him look taller than he was, legs spread and hips pushed out. Tease. Dorian wanted the mouth back on his, and the feel of the rough fingers pushing over his smooth skin.

He doesn't speak, he knows that the other is too weak to resist being wanted by another. He spreads his legs a little in invitation, undoes a couple of the brass buttons of his trousers and waits for the relief of the other. 

It's not a long wait. Ethan's lost his trousers, they’re crumpled on the ground from the hurry of removing them. His thighs are strong and his cock proud where it sticks out from his body and tilts at the hair running down his stomach, he feels rough and rugged against Dorian's skin, and he can't get enough. 

"Mr Chandler," he says, murmurs in a breath that he'd forgotten to take. His fingers push into the long hair of the American and pull him closer, his mouth hanging open slightly to breathe in the others breath. He tastes less of poison next time their tongues meet, and Dorian's thighs are hitched around the other's hips. The absinthe has gone, the shimmer of alcohol gone and now it's just the American, and all of him. He tastes like the whore a little, of waxy lipstick and cheap alcohol. And he wants to replace her, with his own taste, something not consumption ridden and cheap. 

"You're going to fuck me," he states, almost lazily as the other picks at the other buttons left on his trousers. Dorian wishes vaguely that he ripped those off, too, much like he had done with his shirt. His fingers press into the others hair and tangle, fingernails scraping over scalp and pressing. 

When his trousers are gone, crumpled with Mr. Chandler's on the floor, he pushes his hips up and let's his erection press up against the others, looking at the blowing black of the other’s pupils and feel the twitch of unsure fingers.

His eyes are almost pure black when slick oil fingers press his thighs apart and press into him. It then that he notices slight changes in the man he'd licked poison from. His toes run up his back, over a pale line of a scar that hadn't been there before and the knots of his spine that pushed into the skin. Ethan looked up, and his teeth are sharp and white in a grin, his fingers slick and warm as they press into the other. Dorian's hips twitch pathetically and he pulls at the American's hair, harsh so he can see him again, the slight changes that were new. The pale green of his eyes behind the spilt ink of black, the sharper jaw line.  
"I didn't know he was into males," said Mr. Chandler, twisting his fingers inside of Dorian, pressing against the spot that made his dick twitch against his stomach. The man grinned again, pressed the hard line of teeth against the young man's pale white hip. "I was getting bored of that whore," continued the other, sucking blood to the skin with harsh pulls of teeth and skin.

Dorian was interested in what was happening, yes, and perhaps if this were a situation where he wasn't bare and spread out he'd be wanting more. The only thing he wants more of is the American's erection inside of him, hot and filling. 

Dorian tilts up his chin, jaw stiffening at the red mark on his skin, fingers clawing almost at the others scalp. "I would suggest you fucked me then," he suggests, though it's more of a gentle order, dark glares behind his eyes that are clouded with lust. He rubs the heel of his foot into the small of the others back, drawing his hips in and watching the shudder run over strong shoulders and scarred back. He smirked, feeling slightly triumphant. "Get her out of your mind," he finishes, dropping his fingers of one hand from the others hair and skimming it over his chest.

Ethan looks at him, and Dorian doesn't care about the mild changes, and the lack of poison tongue, and he pulls him in again. Drags him up by the small of his back until he's kneeling between his pale thighs, strong hands putting under the thighs and pulling until Dorian's slanted and his ass is pressed against the muscled thighs of the shooter.

His back arches off the green furnishing, his fingers tighten against the back when the other is finally fucking him, dragging his hands up his back to pull Dorian up to sit on his lap, split over his cock. 

"You taste like poison," murmurs Mr. Chandler when he licks over the other's lips, holding smooth hips to keep the tireless grinding and pushing on of his dick. His fingers are almost gentle with how they hold to the top of his ass, but still there enough to leave marks of indigo, like flower petals. 

Dorian grinned around a moan, his own hands tightening in the American's hair. "Like all beautiful things," he offers, a little breathless as he recalls the conversation with Miss Ives.

His fingers slip on the others shoulder's, nails digging into the top of his arms as he pushes his ass down on the others erection, his mouth dropping and any words he'd been thinking disappeared at the touch of Ethan's mouth against his throat. His teeth are cool and sharp where they scrape oddly against his throat and Dorian drops his hands to his back and drags his nails in pale red lines down the knobs of his spine and that new pale scar. 

"God I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you," mutters the American against the base of Dorian's throat where he was biting a watercolour red mark. Dorian's hair fell into his eyes as he shoved his face into the top of the other's head, mouth soft and agape as he stared down at Ethan's white toothed grin. "Never thought he would get there first." 

Dorian's bottom lip pulled slightly against Ethan's forehead, and pushed hips hips up, canting up on his knees and letting his dick press wetly against the American's firm stomach leaving a slight trail in his wake. Ethan's fingers slide down his spine and press into the swell of his bottom and he pulls him back down onto his cock. 

"I've been intrigued since I lay eyes on you," Dorian admits, moving a hand from the other's shoulder and grabbing onto the hard line of his jaw, pointing up his chin and looking in his eyes. They were green, shining and filled with ink black. Dorian shoves their mouths together and feels teeth and blood, in the other hand he holds his dick and moves in time with the move of his hand and push of his hips. 

It gets quiet when he has his tongue in the other's mouth. Quiet as it had gotten so far. The opera piece was getting quieter and outside the rain of London was disappearing. His ears were filled with the sound of his dick hitting against Ethan's stomach and other sounds of their fucking. 

Ethan spits his tongue out a few minutes later, lips red like he'd been kissing a whore, and not someone of his stature. Dorian gives him a loose grin, sharp white teeth and fingernails scraping red open as the other's hips push up, splitting his ass wider.

He feels the slight change and the tightening of Ethan's arms around the slim of his hips, dragging him closer and giving Dorian something to push himself against. He wants to move, curve and switch things. He leans back arching elegantly in a back bend, his thighs pressing wider and thicker as he leant back, continuing the graceful curve until his head hit the soft velvet of the chaise and they were at a whole new angle. He let's out a soft sound. 

"How-" Dorian hears, though he hears nothing else, his ears going to white noise and blank at the feel of Ethan's callused hand wrapping tight and warm around his erection.

His hips raise into the hand, and his back starts to ache slightly from the angle but the underlying buzz of pleasure kept him there, loosely pushing against the hand around his dick but also the one in his ass until his eyelashes were fluttering and his mouth was hanging open obscenely. He didn't make a word of warning, like some of the whores he got did, no, all Ethan got was the slide of his nails down his calves. That’s all Dorian could reach from the back bend.

His eyes darkened impossibly further as he came, white going up against the flawless expanse of his torso. His hands shook a little as he pulled himself back up, back straight with the old posture lessons and his hair out of place in disarray. He felt oversensitised and his breath was huffing and hot.

“Fuck,” Ethan says, intelligently. 

Dorian pushed his hips around more, ducking his lips against the base of Mr. Chandler's neck, mouthing and biting until blood rose and pooled under a thin layer of skin. Ethan's hands are tight on his hips when he finished, pulling him down a little more on his cock, and Dorian presses his smile down against the near-broken flesh. He relishes in the feel of it for a few seconds, the sweet white noise thrumming in his ears again. He ran his nails over the faint scar and saliva ran down from the bruise he'd sucked.

His body was chucked like a rag doll again, pushed off the other until he was split legged and covered in white and he stared up at Ethan, a sharp smile pulling on his mouth and he laughed. He knew the man was too self-loathing to give up the opportunity of any form of love. 

Dorian watches him, notices how his thighs look stronger now, his hands bigger and he doesn't think about how he's changed. Like an artist had erased the parts he didn't like and altered. Dorian closed his legs and pulled a blanket from the side to lay across his shoulders, the nip of the London air finally reaching him.

Ethan doesn't laugh back, he sits on the edge of the chaise and pours another glass of absinthe and gets the taste of poison back between his teeth, under his tongue. His face pulls like he hadn't seen it before, and he mutters, "what is this?" and Dorian doesn't say anything because he doesn't understand quite what is happening. He instead brushes his foot over the others thigh and raises a careful eyebrow. 

"Absinthe," he supplies, like the other hadn't just drank a glass an hour or two ago. He glances to his own stomach and wipes off his own come from his stomach with the corner of the blanket. 

"It tastes like poison," replies the other as he takes another drink. Dorian nods. 

"Yes, it does."

**Author's Note:**

> They were deliberate because I'm following the headcanon that Ethan is Jekyll & Hyde. The Jekyll idea is based off the character from the Jekyll BBC programme, where when Dr. Jekyll changes into Mr. Hyde he changes his appearance just slightly, and it a bit more 'wild' than the other version of himself. if you need any more explanation, please say!!
> 
> and sorry if it's not that accurate!!


End file.
